A lesson for Atobe (or Never underestimate a fellow Captain)
by pixxers and dark_squall





 

He stared at the screen almost disbelievingly. Of course, he should have expected something like this from Atobe Keigo, but really, fifty two pictures featuring just himself? It was overkill even for Atobe; though Tezuka did enjoy looking at the spoiled princess, especially when he was wearing that self important smirk that curled his lips just so perfectly. Perfection notwithstanding, Tezuka reasoned that Atobe could stand to be taken down a peg or two – for his own good, of course.

Just as soon as he’d saved those pictures to his hard drive anyway.

It didn’t take long to think up a suitable come back. The key to counterattacking Atobe was striking at his pride and his vanity, so Tezuka would simply deface a few of those pictures and return them. Or rather, Reface a few of the images.

It didn’t take long to superimpose Echizen’s head onto three of Atobe’s pictures, Tezuka was not striving for finesse, and the images that he attached to his reply were crudely and hastily done. The fourth image was not meant in jest and though Tezuka was a little apprehensive about sending it, he threw caution to the wind. Just before he hit ‘send’ – he reminded himself that he had nothing to lose.

The email read simply ‘vain thing.’ Atobe scowled when he opened the pictures featuring ore-sama’s perfect physique with the little munchkin’s head attached. If he’d been drinking at the time, he was sure he would have choked, or more than likely spit it all over the screen. Tezuka would have to be punished for doing something as heinous as defacing those perfect pictures. “Bastard,” he muttered to himself.

Then he found the fourth image and his cock twitched.

It was of Tezuka, in what he assumed was the Seigaku captain’s locker room, only wearing those white tennis shorts and his glasses. The picture was at a slightly awkward angle, as though the photographer had been forced to capture the image before the beautiful young man had turned away.

His teeth were worrying at his lower lip, and one hand was settled on the waistband of his shorts, ready to strip them off. He looked simply perfect, his hair mussed and his skin shimmering with sweat after a work out on the courts. Atobe experienced something akin to pride merely by looking at the other boy’s picture. Tezuka was a worthy adversary. He was a worthy mate.

Atobe found himself reaching for the phone even before he’d consciously made the decision to call Tezuka. He needed to hear the Seigaku captain’s voice. He needed some form of release as he wouldn’t be able to see his lover until the following day.

Tezuka didn’t pick up right away. In fact he waited until the machine was about to pick up before he deigned to answer.

“Hello, Atobe.”

Of course, Atobe knew exactly what Tezuka was doing. He knew that Tezuka wanted to make him wait, in a futile attempt to teach Atobe some sort of lesson. Of course, this was child’s play for Atobe, something intended to hold his interest and make him keep working for Tezuka’s affection. “You know Tezuka – there’s really no point in making me wait when I am fully aware of what you are doing,” he purred into the phone, eyeing the photograph of Tezuka once again. He wondered who’d taken it, who Tezuka had let get so close and what the punishment had been.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Tezuka asked softly. If it had been anyone else, Atobe might have suspected that the tone to his voice was almost smug.

“Playing games with me. Making me wait, thinking it will be good for me. I assure you it is not good for me.”

“What if I am making you wait thinking it is good for me?”

Atobe paused. He’d never considered that. Perhaps Tezuka was making him wait just so their meeting the following day would be all the more intense. Atobe found that he was not entirely opposed to the idea. Anticipating Tezuka had become his favorite pastime.

“Hm. Well… anyway…” Atobe flicked his hair out of his eyes and gestured to indicate he didn’t want to discuss that anymore even though he knew Tezuka would not be able to se him. “I didn’t appreciate those pictures, Tezuka.”

“I apologize but the sheer number of them was quite overwhelming.” The sound of movement accompanied Tezuka’s voice and Atobe wondered just what he was doing. He would have been disappointed to learn that Tezuka was simply returning to the seat in front of the computer and bringing up the folder with the images in.

“There were so many that I couldn’t decide. I didn’t want to miss sending you one that might become your favorite.”

Flicking through the images carelessly, Tezuka lingered over one he’d found particularly attractive and debated whether to share that with his lover. He was actually surprised that Atobe hadn’t already asked, and that deserved some sort of reward he supposed. “I liked the seventh one,” he said, wishing he could touch Atobe through the screen.

Atobe was stretched out on a chaise long, one arm over his head and that delicious smirk settled on his lips. His clothes were black, his shirt open to reveal his chest, stark against the pale tan of his skin and the deep red material of the furniture he was lounging upon. He looked like a model. He looked like a dream. Atobe was very glad that Tezuka also enjoyed that pose. “I rather liked that one, as well,” he murmured, allowing himself to feel proud of this admittance.

Tezuka was quiet for a moment, and Atobe could hear his breathing over the phone. The soft sound was comforting, and how he wished for the time when he would listen to that every night.

“Are you at your computer, Atobe?” Tezuka asked at last.

“Aa. You?”

His answer came in the form of an invite to view Tezuka’s web camera. His heart very nearly leapt into his throat at the sudden stroke of good fortune, and he had to caution himself against sounding too excited. Just what was Tezuka up to? He accepted the invite and was rewarded with another image of his lover. “Apparently I don’t need this phone, na Tezuka?”

Tezuka was sitting back from the computer in his comfortable chair, wearing only the familiar Seigaku tee-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. He was not, for once, wearing his glasses and Atobe wondered just what he’d been doing before he had called.

It was how he imagined Tezuka must look when he awoke alone. It was getting late he supposed, half past ten, perhaps his lover had fallen asleep in the comfortable clothing. “I’d prefer to hear your voice, Atobe,” he admitted eventually, lifting his shoulders in a brief shrug and keeping his gaze on the camera.

“Whatever you like, then,” Atobe smirked, maximizing the window and sitting back to watch Tezuka. The mere sight of the other boy made his cock twitch. How easy it was to imagine being there with Tezuka. Holding him, touching him, claiming him.

With a small, sweet smile that Atobe had only ever seen in private and even then was as rare and beautiful as a flawless diamond, Tezuka inclined his head, almost bashful. It seemed to Atobe that the boy could see him through the screen, know just how to look at him, be able to stare into his soul. “Your voice,” he whispered.

“God, you drive me crazy, Tezuka,” he admitted, rubbing his cock through the material of his pants. He wanted to be driven crazy, no matter how dangerous it was. No matter how dangerous Tezuka was to his self-preservation, he couldn’t resist inviting him closer. “I shouldn’t let you… but I love looking at you. Show me something nice, Tezuka,” he requested, reaching out and tracing the boy’s face on the screen.

Tezuka shifted in the chair, the tee-shirt riding up to show the briefest glimpse of his flat, pale belly. “Show you this; tell you that, you’re quite demanding Atobe. What qualifies as nice?”

“Anything. As long as I can watch you.”

Considering that statement a moment, Tezuka adjusted the camera, leaning back in his chair as he slid the white silk boxers down past his knees slowly and kicked them away. As he made himself comfortable, he gave Atobe brief and unintended glimpses of his sex as the Seigaku tee-shirt shifted over his legs.

That was nice. That was better than nice. “Ahh, Tezuka,” Atobe moaned, thumbing his pants open and easing the zipper down. Tezuka looked like he’d just stepped out of a wet dream. “That’s nice.”

“Do you have a camera, Atobe?”

Tease. Whoever imagined Tezuka Kunimitsu could be such a tease? “Of course I do,” he scowled to himself. He wanted to see Tezuka naked. He wanted to feed his fantasies.

“If this is nice enough…,” another smile curled the brunet’s lips and he shifted in the chair again, a pale flash of skin catching Atobe’s attention. “Will you let me see you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he simply turned on his camera and shifted the camera to get his best angle, ensuring that his lover would only be treated to the finest of views. Atobe sent the invite, and as soon as it was accepted, settled back to watch the brunet again. “You only have to ask,” he gestured dismissively.

“Thank you, Atobe. Give me a minute.”

Atobe watched in something akin to shock as Tezuka set the phone down and stripped off the Seigaku tee-shirt, folding it neatly and dropping it on the floor out of the camera’s view. That done, he lifted the phone back to his ear once more.

He could see everything. Atobe had never expected Tezuka to go through with it and yet here he was, even bereft of his glasses and he couldn’t keep the shock from his expression. If he’d had the faintest idea how comical his expression was, with his jaw hanging open in surprise and his eyes wide, Atobe would have more than likely simply imploded.

When Tezuka asked “now what should I do, Atobe?” Atobe’s cock throbbed even harder. He had plenty of thoughts to offer on that subject but he wasn’t sure which one to suggest first.

“God, Tezuka. I think I should come over.”

The words gave Tezuka pause, one eyebrow arching delicately and a frown marring his lips. “I thought you were busy tonight?”

Busy… Atobe remembered then that Jiroh was asleep in the next room. He’d fallen asleep – as he was wont to do – in the course of his lessons as Atobe had been attempting to tutor him in Greek. Of course, given the rumors that seemed to surround Atobe and Jiroh’s friendship, he’d neglected to inform Tezuka just what ‘busy’ actually entailed.

Their relationship was still too new and uncertain to risk anything like that just yet. Even if the rumors were completely untrue, there was no telling just what the quiet, calm and collected Tezuka felt on the inside. There was no telling what would make the boy back off. “Ahh. Come to think of it, I’d just have to jerk off on the ride over. Will you play with me instead?”

“Are we still meeting tomorrow?” Tezuka asked. His voice seemed almost hopeful. That in turn renewed Atobe’s confidence.

Atobe’s voice lowered to a seductive purr and he was all sincerity when he leveled his gaze on the camera before him. “As though I could go two days without you, ‘mitsu.”

With a small sigh of relief, Tezuka ran a hand through his mussed hair, brushing it back and out of his way. Of course, the light brown locks did not stay there, tumbling down to curl at the corners of his eyes once more, thankfully not obstructing Atobe’s view of those pretty eyes. “Then I’ll play with you. Tell me what to do, Keigo.”

Whenever Atobe heard Tezuka Kunimitsu say his name in that tone, that "make me come, make me love you" tone, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and savor the emotions that such capitulation evoked. The chance to have Tezuka at his mercy, naked, even if they were separated by distance, was always going to win out over studying. “Mmm, I want to watch you make yourself come. Spread your legs.”

“Like this?” Tezuka did as Atobe asked; spreading his legs as far as the chair would permit, sliding lower in the seat. His free hand rested on his thigh, pale skin against pale skin, fingers stealing closer to his cock and flexing against his flesh. He knew what was coming of course.

“I think I love you,” Atobe moaned into the phone.

“Already?” Tezuka’s voice was light, almost teasing, as though to treat Atobe’s words as playful banter was his way of guarding his heart.

“Yes,” he responded, all seriousness. Atobe was beginning to suspect he’d fallen for Tezuka that day on the courts, that day when someone had truly challenged him. He’d fallen for that cool, collected young man who came alive on the tennis courts, in battle. Sliding a hand beneath his pants, curling his fingers around his sex he teased himself slowly. “Stroke your cock, Tezuka. Do it slowly.”

As he watched, Tezuka’s hand shifted closer to his hardening sex, to draw fingers along the length slowly and lightly. He was almost hesitant as he finally wrapped his fingers around the shaft, stroking himself with long, smooth movements. Of course, he was slow and methodical at first, teasing – testing his limits. Atobe had no such urge to hold back, but he did for Tezuka’s sake, watching and copying the actions.

Never, never had Atobe seen anything or anyone more desirable in his life. When he saw Tezuka the following day he was going to suck him, touch him, explore that pretty little body and make Tezuka writhe in pleasure. “Imagine that it’s me touching you, Tezuka.”

“I wish it was,” the brunet admitted, breathless and shy, tightening his fingers around himself and rubbing a thumb over the tip of his cock.

That admittance did wonders for Atobe’s already quite substantial ego. Tezuka Kunimitsu so rarely admitted that he wanted to see Atobe, let alone that he wanted more than a brief encounter that the few times he did were enough to make Atobe’s heart flutter in his chest. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“I can’t either. What should I do, Atobe?” Tezuka’s attention had been caught by the screen. The look he wore, whether he knew it or not, was simply delicious, an uncertain and innocent air that didn’t match his current state of undress.

“Have you ever… penetrated yourself, Tezuka?”

He looked a little surprised, as though that question had been the last thing he’d expected. “Is that what you want me to do?” he asked softly. The nervous timbre to his voice was almost imperceptible and Atobe had to hand it to his lover, he could hide his fears and weaknesses well. That his emotions were often concealed in much the same manner was just as fascinating to Atobe as the talent, and the passion that showed when he played.

As Tezuka’s hand slid away from his sex, lower still to the darkly shadowed crease of his buttocks, Atobe found himself almost panting with lust. He thrust into his hand automatically, moaning softly. “God, yes. I want to watch you stretch yourself for me.”

“Dry?” Tezuka asked, unsure.

“Suck your fingers first,” Atobe said, a slow and wicked smile crawling over his lips. Delighted that Tezuka was so obviously inexperienced, Atobe bit his lower lip and, not for the first time, thanked whatever deity was responsible for this unexpected windfall.

The brunet took two fingers into his mouth, his throat moving delightfully as he sucked on them. His eyes fluttered closed, his head rolling back to rest against the chair back. Atobe just knew that Tezuka was imagining they were his. “Ahh, Tezuka. Nice and slow,” he urged, his voice barely above a whisper and soft, so soft he didn’t recognize it as his own as Tezuka lifted one foot to rest against the desk, sinking in the seat.

“Atobe?”

Atobe forced his hand away from his sex, just to prolong the pleasure. He wanted to see Tezuka Kunimitsu come for him before he found release himself. “Yes Tezuka?”

“I haven’t… aah…”

He knew without hearing it that his lover hadn’t been touched. He expected it, and he was going to change that as soon as he saw him the following day. “Deeper, Tezuka. Go ahead.”

Tezuka’s breath hitched as he pushed the finger in as deep as he could, his body tight around the intrusion. The reluctant pleasure was obvious on his features and in the soft, shuddering moan that he gave as he eased his finger out only to push it slowly inside himself again. His eyes were still closed, his mouth slack. “Am I to imagine you doing this as well?” he husked, breathless.

Atobe swallowed hard. “You’d better. I’ll be doing it tomorrow,” he said, palming his balls and hissing in pleasure. He was so close, so very close that he was even reconsidering the idea of waiting for his lover to come first. “God, you’re sexy.”

“Should I move, or remain still?” Tezuka asked, his cheeks were flushed but it was more with embarrassment than pleasure, and Atobe was beginning to feel envious of Tezuka’s chair.

“Do what feels good, ‘mitsu. You’re going to make me come.”

He rocked his finger slowly, testing, curious. Atobe watched as Tezuka grew used to the touch, the intrusion that melted into his body, hungrily. He couldn’t take his eyes off his lover for even a second as the brunet gave a guttural moan, moving faster and harder when he grew used to it. Then he found Tezuka meeting his gaze, his eyelids heavy with lust and his hand trembling as it still held the phone. “I want to see you come, Keigo.”

Atobe paused long enough to push his pants down past his hips hurriedly, still watching his beautiful lover, sitting down again and stroking himself roughly. “And you certainly will. I can’t wait to touch you.”

“You’ll do this for me tomorrow?” Tezuka whimpered softly. “Put your fingers inside me?”

“Yes, ahh yes. There’s so much I want to do for you,” Atobe gasped. He was almost ready to start licking the monitor in his lust as he jerked his cock roughly.

When Tezuka moaned his name desperately, his cock leaking and his cheeks flushed, Atobe could hold on no longer. He thrust into his hand, coming hard and spattering his belly with his release. “Kunimitsu,” he gasped, keeping his eyes open even though he simply wanted to collapse.

“Keigo!” Tezuka moaned, his body contracting around his fingers and his hips bucking violently.

“Mmm, ‘mitsu. So, so nice,” he murmured, shivering with the fading pleasure of his orgasm. All he could do was sit there, watching his lover as he panted, feeling utterly spent.

Balancing the phone on his shoulder, Tezuka reached for his glasses, lowering the leg that had rested on the desk slowly. “I’m… looking forward to tomorrow,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper and his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, and he’d never looked more beautiful.

“Tezuka. Look at me.”

Tezuka looked up, his gaze finding the camera and then returning to the screen.

Atobe simply stared. “Tezuka… I…”

Jiroh chose that particular moment to walk into the room, blearily scrubbing his eyes and yawning loudly. Tucked under his elbow was one of Atobe’s lavender satin pillows, as he’d fallen asleep on Atobe’s bed. “Keigo? What are you doing?” he asked sleepily.

The image window fell to black as Tezuka covered the camera. The last image he saw was of Tezuka, wide eyed and shocked.

“Jiroh!” Atobe choked, sitting up right. Of course he was not embarrassed so much as he angry - at himself more than Jiroh. He wasn’t supposed to be so careless as to risk his relationship in such a mindless way, let alone allow Jiroh to see him with his dick hanging out of his pants and the evidence of his release all over his belly. “Ore-sama is occupied – get out!”

“Busy,” Tezuka said. His voice was distant, soft.

“Tezuka let me explain,” Atobe didn’t even hear the door close behind him. “I’m helping him with one or two of his subjects, that’s all.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that?” he sounded almost hurt. He heard the quiet movements of Tezuka pulling on his boxer shorts again, his voice muffled as he balanced the phone on his shoulder. Could it be that Tezuka was actually jealous?

Atobe rubbed his belly idly and straightened his clothing. “I didn’t want to risk upsetting you. I know you’ve probably heard the rumors… about Jiroh.”

“I have. But I treated them as I would any rumor. I ignored them,” he didn’t add the words ‘until now’ but it was obvious that that was what he was thinking.

For the first time in his life, Atobe actually felt afraid. After months, he’d finally managed to get Tezuka Kunimitsu all to himself and now, he was in danger of losing him before he’d really had a chance to experience him. Atobe couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t lose Tezuka like that. “I’m sorry, Tezuka. I didn’t want to lie, I just… didn’t want to risk you,” he said. And then he uttered words that he’d never spoken before either. “Forgive me.”

Tezuka pulled the cover from the camera and looked into it. His face was deadly serious. “I won’t forgive lying.”

“I won’t do it again. I promise,” and he meant every word. If that was what it took to keep his lover happy, Atobe would be more than happy to adhere to that condition. Tezuka Kunimitsu was far, far too valuable to Atobe to risk losing him so early in the game.

“If you do, Atobe,” Tezuka said as he turned his attention back to the screen. He was just as flushed as Atobe felt, his cheeks still red and his eyes glazed with pleasure. “Then there’ll be no more.”

Letting out a breath that he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in, Atobe smiled. “I won’t. I…care for you Tezuka.”

Tezuka nodded; sweat dampened hair shifting with the gentle movement, tumbling over his pretty eyes, framed by the narrow glitter of the metal of his glasses. He looked more beautiful and perfect than ever and Atobe couldn’t wait until the following day so he could see all this in the flesh, where he could touch and taste and kiss that pale skin, that beautiful face. He could tell by the hard glint in Tezuka’s gaze that he was still feeling injured by the minor slight. Atobe vowed that he would remedy that tomorrow.

“I should go. I need to clean up,” Tezuka shifted uncomfortably.

“Does that mean I am forgiven?” He couldn’t keep the hope from his voice.

“I suppose so,” Tezuka shrugged, cradling the phone against his ear and tipping his head to watch Atobe curiously. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Atobe could hold back no longer, reaching out and touching the screen though it was no substitute for the real Tezuka, it made him feel a little closer to his lover. “As early as you will allow.”

“Ten. As we agreed.”

“Ten it is. Goodnight then, Kunimitsu,” Atobe let his hand fall from the screen, smiling for his lover. Less than twelve hours away and yet it felt like forever until he could touch Tezuka again. Less than twelve hours, that felt like a life time.

“Sleep well, Keigo.”

Atobe flipped his phone shut and turned off the computer, feeling suddenly weakened, completely exhausted. Tezuka was still upset with him, he’d yelled at Jiroh for no reason… Atobe felt like a fool. It took a few minutes to summon the strength to stand, and he finally straightened, stretching. When the following day dawned, he would be sure to remind Tezuka just how valuable he was.

Jiroh was lying on the floor outside Atobe’s door, curled into a ball with his head pillowed on the lavender satin of the pillow he’d bought with him. He knelt down beside him, smoothing his light hair affectionately. “Jiroh – wake up.”

He yawned and rolled onto his back, peering up at his captain and frowning. “I’m sorry, Keigo. I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright,” Atobe smiled. “He’ll trust me eventually.”

Tezuka sighed as he closed the chat window and leaned back in his chair. He felt… confused. Lost. He thought back to the pillow in Jiroh’s hands and wondered if there were some kernel of truth to the rumor regarding Atobe and Jiroh’s relationship. However, the boy could – and did – fall asleep anywhere at any time so there was always a chance it could be innocent.

Setting his phone down, running his hand through his hair, Tezuka padded to the bathroom. He was tired, and he wanted to clean himself up before he fell asleep. Perhaps he’d spend the entirety of their date the following day forcing Atobe to discuss tennis. That seemed a suitable punishment.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep once he was dry and comfortable in bed.

Jiroh wasn’t interested in Greek at eleven o’ clock. Not that he was particularly interested in Greek at any other time of the day but instead of continuing their lesson, he curled up on Atobe’s bed and resumed his slumber.

Atobe could not get Tezuka out of his mind, which left him feeling on edge and angry. He would not find peace as easily as his lover or his friend and consoled himself with the knowledge that at least he would be able to vent his frustrations with Tezuka the following day.

And that realization felt just as satisfying as watching his lover pleasure himself while Atobe had watched.

He finally drifted off to sleep, to be courted by dreams of Tezuka Kunimitsu, his lover - the most significant challenge Atobe had ever faced.